


Bun in the Oven

by StormyDaze



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Childbirth, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Smut, Unexpected Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/pseuds/StormyDaze
Summary: Owen didn't expect any of this to happen, but now that it has, he's determined to make the best of it. He definitely doesn't need help from the alpha who got him into this mess.





	Bun in the Oven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxjar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/gifts).



Owen looked down at the mass of doughy crumbs that were supposed to be forming a nice pie crust and sighed. He was too distracted to focus on pies. He tossed the crumbs into a bowl and covered them with a cloth to keep them fresh, and then glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time.

Close enough. All the day’s customers were gone, taking the majority of his baked goods with them. Owen locked the front door and flipped the sign on the window to “Closed,” and then slipped out the back door, tossing his apron on the counter as he passed.

Owen practically skipped down the streets, darting into an alleyway a couple of blocks away from his shop. A very attractive young man in the unflattering mustard-colored uniform of the King’s Royal Army lounged against the brickwork. He smiled when he saw Owen.

“Declan!” Owen threw himself into the soldier’s arms, pressing his nose against the other man’s neck and breathing in his strong alpha scent. He smelled like musk and sandalwood and the minutes before an afternoon thunderstorm, and for a moment Owen was content to just sit there and breathe him in.

The soldier had other plans. Gently, he nipped Owen’s earlobe, and when Owen pulled back, captured his mouth in a kiss. Owen responded just as eagerly. For a few minutes there was nothing but lips and tongues and the intoxicating scent.

When the soldier started to run his hands up underneath Owen’s shirt, Owen pulled back with a reluctant whine. Not here, not now. Owen stepped back a step to clear his head a little, but Declan’s intoxicating scent still pervaded the enclosed alley. 

“Have a good day?” he asked to distract himself.

Declan shrugged and gave Owen a crooked smile. “Boring. Drills, mostly. They’re really tightening up since North Delavia started mobilizing.”

“You’re not getting deployed, are you?” Owen asked in alarm.

Declan smelled the distress on him and stepped into his space, nuzzling his face against his neck to calm him. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about that,” he said. “Father would never allow it.” Declan was the third child of a rich duke who thought military training would help his son build character. Actual wartime fighting wasn’t part of the plan, however.

Owen allowed himself to be comforted. For a while they just stood there, trading little kisses and bits of gossip they’d picked up from their respective workplaces.

“Don’t you have to be getting back to the barracks before curfew?” Owen asked as the sun started to set. 

“It’s my night off,” Declan told him. “I was thinking we could go out. I’ll show you a real night on the town. Dancing, dinner, anything you want, baby.”

“Anything, as long as it’s with you,” Owen said.

Declan arranged for an intimate little table in the back corner of a small, dimly lit restaurant. There was roast beef and broiled potatoes with cheese and a salad made with the last of the fresh summer vegetables before autumn came and everything was canned or pickled. 

To be honest, Owen barely tasted it. He was too busy staring at the beautiful boy in front of him. How lucky he was, to have this.

After the food, they went dancing at a little bar by the river. At first the music was fast, and Owen could barely keep up, with no breath left to even talk over the music. But then it slowed down, and before he knew it he was pressed up close to Declan, smelling the sweat and pheromones wafting off him.

It made Owen crazy. God, he wanted Declan, wanted everything with him, every inch of him. He leaned up and kissed him, and Declan kissed him back, and maybe it was the music still thrumming through his blood or the pheromones adding his head but he threw caution to the winds. When Declan’s hands began to wander underneath Owen’s clothes, Owen didn’t stop them. He was too busy trying to feel as much of Declan as he could, to get his own hands anywhere he could get them. 

Declan dragged him outside, behind the bar, hands clamped tight on Owen’s ass as if he was afraid Owen would disappear. Owen had no intention of doing any such thing. He threw his arms around Declan’s neck and his legs around his waist, letting Declan pick him up and pin him against the wall.

“God, you smell so good,” Declan growled into his mouth. “I want you…”

“Please,” Owen whimpered. 

Declan busied himself unfastening their pants while Owen kept his mouth occupied. Heat burned through him, consuming him, and the only thing that could quench the fire was the taste of Declan. 

“I didn’t want our first time to be this way,” Declan said, pulling back just a little. “I wanted it to be, you know, nice. Feather mattress and everything. You deserve nice things, babe.”

“This is nice,” Owen said. “Less talking, more fucking. I need you inside me.”

Declan didn’t need to be told twice. Owen’s hole was dripping with slick, and Declan slid right in while Owen clenched around him. The part of his mind that wasn’t drowning in alpha pheromones wondered if this was a good idea, but it was fine, Owen’s heat was days away, and anyway, it was _Declan_ , how could anything be wrong?

Declan buried himself to the hilt and paused, and Owen basked in the feeling of fullness, of being complete. Declan stretched him but not to the point of pain, just to the point of ecstasy. Owen bucked his hips a little, trying to get a little friction, and Declan jumped like he’d been electrocuted, the movement brushing his cock over that sensitive spot that made sparks fly in his body. 

“Come on,” Owen whined, and Declan began to move, quick, jerky thrusts that made up with enthusiasm what they lacked in finesse. Owen gripped his shoulders and rocked with him, letting Declan shove him up against the wall behind him even as he tried to push down on Declan’s cock. Owen’s own cock was hard and leaking precome, smearing it across Owen’s shirt as it bobbed up and down in time with Declan’s thrusts, but Owen didn’t give a damn.

Declan’s knot began to swell, tugging on the rim of Owen’s hole as he continued to thrust in and out. “Tell me how much you want my knot,” Declan whispered in Owen’s ear.

“Please,” Owen begged, “please, knot me, I need it, I need your knot so bad, please, give it to me.” The string of babble spilled out and he hardly knew what he was saying, just that he’d say anything as long as Declan didn’t stop. Declan stilled and Owen felt hot come splash inside him, filling him up, and then Declan’s knot pressed right against that sensitive spot and Owen was coming too, spilling all over his shirt and Declan’s shirt and cementing them together in a sticky mess. 

Declan slumped forward, bracing himself and Owen against the wall. Owen curled into him, breathing in the deep heady alpha scent, and for a while they just stayed like that, breathing each other in.

“That was amazing,” Owen said when he could speak again. 

Declan peppered tiny kisses around the corners of Owen’s mouth. “I can’t wait until I get to do that every day with you,” he said. 

Owen didn’t think it was still possible for him to blush, but he might have been wrong. “Soon,” he said instead. “When the war’s over, right?”

“The very second,” Declan promised. “We’ll get a nice little place. Close to the bakery, if you still want it. With a feather bed and silk sheets. All the nice things you deserve.”

“All I want is you,” Owen said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It was either very, very late or very, very early by the time Owen crept back into the tiny apartment above the bakery. It was dark and silent, completely empty in a way that still gave Owen a pang in his chest. A year and a half ago, he’d shared this apartment with his mother before she’d taken ill suddenly and passed away, leaving him the bakery. It still didn’t feel right. But now he had Declan, and as soon as the war was over, Declan was sure his father would let him leave the military and start a life of his own. With Owen.

Owen collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep without even taking off his clothes.

Owen could barely concentrate enough to bake the normal breads and pies over the next few days. Any time he let his mind wander, it turned back to Declan and what they had done together. At night, he lay in bed and touched himself as he remembered, but his fingers were nothing compared to the memory of Declan’s thick knot in him. It drove him to distraction.

Declan himself, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found. That wasn’t unusual; he had to sneak out of the barracks whenever he had free time, and there was’t much of that in the military. Still, Owen grew more restless the longer he went without seeing him. He wanted to throw his arms around Declan and kiss him and breathe in his scent.

The other worry was that a week passed, and Owen’s heat didn’t come. He shrugged it off. Heats could be unpredictable, even though his had always been as regular as clockwork.

It was a customer at the bakery who finally solved that particular mystery for him. “Congratulations!” she said to him, beaming. “Your own little bun in the oven, hmm?” She giggled at her own joke.

Owen frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh don’t be shy, boy, I can smell it on you, even over that delicious cake you have back there!” the customer said. “I’m so happy you’ve found yourself an alpha to take care of you. I’ve been worried about you, being here alone all this time.”

“You must be mistaken,” Owen said. “I haven’t even had my heat this month.” 

“Oh, if it started while you were _involved_ with your alpha, you might not have noticed,” the customer said. “And heats can end prematurely if you take an alpha’s knot before they really start. That’s how it was when my husband had our youngest. We never even knew he’d been in heat until I smelled the pregnancy on him. Is everything all right?” Something must have shown on Owen’s face, because she looked concerned.

Owen smiled at her. “Everything is fine,” he said. “My alpha will take care of me. He’ll be so excited when I tell him! It was a little sooner than we planned, but I know he’ll want this baby as much as I do.”

The customer patted him on the hand and left with her bread and a cheery farewell.

When the lunch rush died down, Owen sat down to write a note to Declan, to be delivered to the barracks, but the wording wouldn’t come out right. After his third attempt, he gave up and went to mix cookie dough instead.

But that afternoon, in the pile of orders for cakes and cookies, there was a letter for Owen. “Letter” might have been too strong a term; it was a note scrawled on a folded piece of brown wrapping paper. It said:

_Owen,_

_The war has taken a turn for the worse. I can’t tell you much, it’s all very secret, but I have to leave. I don’t know when I’ll return._

_Please don’t wait for me. It was nice to spend time with you, but we both knew my father would never approve. There will be other opportunities for both of us. I wish you the best._

_Declan_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

**8 months later**

Declan hummed with anxiety the entire train ride home. The war was… well, not entirely over, but concluding. Peace talks were in progress, and far enough along that many of the soldiers were able to be sent home. His father had sent for him at once, but Declan had something else he needed to do.

Declan couldn’t wait to see Owen again. Not a day had gone by since he’d left that he hadn’t thought of him, that sweet smile, that warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla, like the bakery had worked its way into his pheromones. Guilt and dread curled in his gut when he thought about the note he’d left for Owen. Maybe it had been cruel. But, well, he hadn’t been sure that he would make it home, and he didn’t want Owen to put his life on hold waiting for him. Better Owen think he was just another rich alpha asshole than lose himself to grief if Declan went and got himself killed.

But he hadn’t. And while Owen would be mad at him, surely, if he could explain, everything would be fine. Their love was stronger than that, Declan was sure.

Declan got off the train and wound his way through the little town to Owen’s bakery. He’d never been inside before; it wouldn’t do to be seen together before Declan was ready to tell his father, and Owen said that Declan would be too distracting while he was trying to work. It was crowded with customers, all chattering loudly, and it took Declan a while to push through the crowd to find Owen. When he did, his jaw dropped.

Owen’s belly was huge and round with child, a white apron stretched tight over it. He rested one hand on it while he took a customer’s payment and handed over a wrapped package of pastries. Declan did the math. But Owen hadn’t been in heat then, he would have know, would have smelled it on him. Maybe Owen had found another alpha to chase away his sorrow after Declan left. The thought of another alpha’s hands on Owen made Declan feel hot with rage. He turned and left the shop before he could cause a scene.

If Owen had found another alpha, would Declan fight for him? He should. But he didn’t think he could bear to hurt Owen any more than he already had. 

If Owen wanted another alpha, if Owen was truly happy, Declan would learn to live with that.

But he had to know. He had to hear Owen say that he didn’t want him. The crowded bakery suddenly didn’t seem like the best place for this reunion, so Declan waited.

He found a comfortable place to rest and wait on the street behind the bakery as customers cleared out for the night. When Owen emerged from the back door with a bag full of trash, Declan stood up straight.

Owen stopped dead, the bag tumbling from his hands. His face went white. And then he was right next to Declan, so close that Declan could smell that sweet smell of cinnamon and vanilla, now underlined with the hot musk of a bred omega. Declan wanted to sink his teeth into Owen’s neck and never let him go.

A burst of pain on the side of his face brought him out of his romantic fantasies. He stared at Owen in shock.

“Did you just slap me?”

Owen snarled at him and raised his hand again, but this time Declan caught him by the wrist. “Babe, I know—”

“I’m not your ‘babe,’” Owen snapped. “You left! Well, you should have stayed gone.”

“Just let me explain—”

“That letter explained plenty. Leave. I don’t want to see you again.” Owen turned to go back inside, but Declan still had his wrist.

“Just tell me if the baby is mine,” Declan said desperately. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, like “I’m sorry” and “I love you” and “please don’t leave me” but that was what came out instead. He wanted to kick himself.

“It’s _mine,_ ” Owen said. “Fuck off.” He wrenched his arm free from Declan’s grasp and stormed back inside.

So that went well.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Declan wasn’t the type to give up easily. He tried to tell himself that Owen was happy, but he couldn’t soothe the ache under his ribs that wanted Owen so much. He took to hanging around the bakery, keeping out of sight. He wasn’t going to confront Owen, not after last time. But he wanted to make sure everything was okay.

Owen constantly seemed exhausted. He got up too early and worked too late, and always seemed to be out of breath from hauling around his massive belly along with sacks of flour and sugar. There were dark circles under his eyes. 

Declan wanted to go to him, to wrap him up in blankets and let him sleep for two days, to feed him and rub his belly and take care of him. But Owen had always been stubborn, and Declan didn’t want to hurt him any more. So he just watched from a distance.

It definitely wasn’t stalking. He was just hanging out in Owen’s vicinity. Casually. Not creepy at all.

But as he watched Owen exhaust himself more and more to keep the bakery running, he didn’t think he could live with himself without trying just once more to explain. The bakery wasn’t a good place for a conversation, too noisy and crowded. And after the last time, Declan didn’t want to corner Owen alone again. So when Owen went to the market during his lunch break to buy fruit for pies and tarts, Declan decided that would be a great place to stage an “accidental” meeting.

He trailed Owen to the market, a massive outdoor collection of stalls that popped up in the park once in a month to sell anything from jewelry to livestock. When Owen stopped to pick through a rack of slightly wilted rhubarb, Declan sidled up to him.

“Need help carrying that?” he asked, gesturing to the canvas bag Owen was loading rhubarb into.

Owen jerked his head up to glare at him. He looked even worse than he had before; his face was pale and drawn, and he had massive dark circles under his eyes. “I don’t need your help,” he said, but his voiced lacked its previous venom. 

“I’m sorry,” Declan blurted out. Owen stared at him. “Look, I was trying to be noble and self-sacrificing, all right? I didn’t want you to spend your life pining after me if I died. I thought you’d be better off this way.”

“You idiot,” Owen said. He opened his mouth to say more, but instead he gasped and clutched his belly.

“Are you okay?” Declan asked, instantly alarmed. “Is the baby coming?”

“Just false labor,” Owen said, taking a deep breath. “It’s been happening for weeks now. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Sit down,” Declan said, putting a hand on Owen’s arm and guiding him to a bench a little ways away. “Can I get you something to drink?” The omega’s scent was laced with pain, and it made Declan’s shoulders hunch up.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Owen said. “Look, thanks for the apology. I appreciate your noble intentions or whatever. But I’ve got a business to run and a baby to look after and I don’t have _time_ for—” His voice choked off as a sob burst from his throat and tears streamed from his eyes.

Declan didn’t know what to do. Crying pregnant omegas were _not_ his area of expertise. He patted Owen’s arm awkwardly.

Owen swatted his hand way. “It’s just the pregnancy hormones,” he said, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Between the false labor and the fact that this little one can’t sit still for five minutes, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

“You should be resting, not hauling sacks of rhubarb around,” Declan chided.

Owen laughed humorlessly. “Who else is going to do it? How else am I going to afford to take care of this baby if I can’t keep the bakery running?”

“I could help—”

“I already said I don’t want your help.” Owen stood up, and immediately doubled over. The bag of rhubarb tumbled to the ground as he grabbed his stomach with both hands and groaned. Declan started to grab him and then caught himself, hovering awkwardly over Owen.

Everything happened very fast. 

A crack of gunfire sounded out across the square. Without thinking, Declan dove to the ground, pulling Owen with him. More shots rang out. Around them, people were running in every direction. Something was on fire. Several stalls had been reduced to piles of wooden splinters. People were running across the park, covered in soot and blood.

Declan thought of the battlefield, of soldiers bleeding out on the ground, of blood and death and flame. He had no weapons. There was more gunfire, and a small explosion. They had to get to cover, now. 

“Get ready to run!” Declan shouted. He pulled Owen to his feet and ran for the shelter of an old stone building near the park. They’d be safe there, for now. 

Owen groaned, and a splash of liquid splattered the ground between his legs. Oh, shit. The baby really was coming. So much for false labor.

They ducked into the building. It had once been a restaurant or something, but now it was empty, just a stone floor and some dusty wooden furniture. Declan overturned a table in front of the door and piled some chairs behind it, blockading them in.

There wasn’t much to make Owen comfortable. Declan laid him down on the floor and brushed his hair back from his face, which was streaked with sweat and grime.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he said.

Owen gripped his hand. “It’s coming now!” he said. His voice was tinged with panic. “I can’t have a baby here!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Declan said. “Let me help you get your pants off, okay?” He pulled off Owen’s shoes and set them aside, and then wrestled off Owen’s soaked pants and tossed them out of the way. He untied Owen’s apron to give him more room to breathe, and wadded it up under Owen’s head for a pillow. “Just try to relax okay?”

Owen, ever contrary, tensed up as another contraction ripped through him. “Breathe,” Declan reminded him. “Deep breaths.” There was still shouting and gunfire outside, but no one seemed to be trying to break into their little safe house, so Declan was happy to ignore it. Owen needed him.

“I need — to push,” Owen gasped.

“Then push,” Declan said. “Your body knows what to do. Just trust it.” At least, he hoped that was true, because he was so out of his depth here. All he knew was that he needed Owen to be okay, and there wasn’t anything he could do here.

Owen gripped his hand so hard he thought his fingers might break as he pushed through a contraction. Declan slid the fingers of his other hand into Owen’s hole and they brushed up against something hard and round. “I can feel the head,” Declan said. “You’re doing great, babe, keep pushing.”

“I told you— I’m not— your babe,” Owen huffed between pushes.

“Yeah, you’re a strong independent omega who don’t need no alpha,” Declan said. “I think I can see the head now.”

And indeed, with a few more pushes, the baby’s head was emerging from Owen’s hole. Declan extricated his hand from Owen’s death grip and gently covered the crowning head. “It’s coming, the head’s almost out, just give me a big push now,” Declan said.

Owen squeezed his eyes shut tight and pushed as hard as he could. The baby’s head slid out. “The head’s out!” Declan said. “Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.”

“You breathe!” Owen snapped. Declan ignored that.

“Okay, just one more big push, all right? You’re doing so good, you’re almost done.” Declan gently cradled the baby’s head.

Another contraction ripped through Owen, and he let out a primal scream as he pushed with everything he had. Declan tugged as gently as he could on the baby, and with a rush of fluids, it slid out into his hands.

“It’s out! It’s out, you did it, you did so good.” The baby let out a cry and Declan brought it up to Owen’s chest.

Owen struggled to sit up, and Declan hurried to help him into a sitting position. He took Owen’s apron and draped it gently over the crying baby in Owen’s arms.

“He’s beautiful,” Owen said breathlessly. He looked up at Declan, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. 

“Yeah, he is,” Declan said. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but there sure was a lot of it. He thought he might be crying too. He hoped Owen wouldn’t mention it.

Declan cleared his throat. “You never did tell me if he’s mine.”

Owen rolled his eyes at him. “Of course he’s yours,” Owen said. He took a deep breath. “I’m keeping the bakery.”

“Okay?” Declan said, confused by the non sequitur. 

“And I’m still mad at you.”

“I figured.” Owen had made that perfectly clear.

“But if you want to come around sometime and see him, I wouldn’t object to that. Much,” Owen said. 

Declan was definitely crying now. “I’d like that,” he said. 

He realized that the screams and gunfire noises had died down. Probably he should be out there helping people, but he’d rather die than leave Owen here. Soon they’d have to move, to get Owen someplace more comfortable. But that could wait.

“What are you going to name him?” Declan asked.

“My mom’s name was Alexandra,” Owen said. “I was thinking of calling him Alex, after her.”

“It’s perfect,” Declan said. And it was.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, the bakery came first, and after that, I couldn't not go with this title.


End file.
